The career path I set for myself includes teaching English overseas. It was one of the divergent roads I was ready to take if I ever found myself standing at a fork, needing to decide on my academic career. That came when, after many years as a school administrator, I suffered from severe job burnout. I revisited my career path and finally applied to be an ESL teacher abroad.
I searched for job openings in China, Japan, and South Korea. According to my TESOL trainer, the said countries are considered premiere destinations for ESL teachers. They offer the best package of remuneration and benefits. My preferred destination was South Korea, although I also sent applications to universities in the Middle East.
My initial search for ESL positions in South Korea ended in disappointment. Universities offered job openings only to citizens of native English-speaking countries. It means that if you’re not an American, British, Canadian, Australian, Irish, South African, or New Zealander, you may not apply. Even universities in China and Japan prefer hiring (or hiring only) citizens from the said countries.
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that such a policy exists. Why, in a world where only native English speakers would be allowed to teach the English language? Isn’t that policy (of hiring native English speakers only) discriminatory? That was when I realized that “native-speakerism” is real. Adrian Holliday coined the term, and it refers to a form of discrimination or bias where preference or privilege is given to native speakers of a language over non-native speakers.
Exclusively hiring applicants from native English-speaking countries discriminates against individuals not coming from those parts of the world, even if they are highly proficient in the language. It deprives them of “equal job opportunities.”
Isn’t the said policy racist? It is! Why? Any practice that directly or indirectly excludes a particular group of people because of a specific cultural nuance is racist. Accent is the cultural nuance that is the main reason for implementing this policy. For this reason, Adrian Holliday created the construct of native-speakerism and classified it as a neo-racist ideology.
However, despite my initial disappointments, I did not lose hope and continued searching for job openings for ESL teachers in South Korea. I kept the faith and clung to the belief that there are universities in the said country that believe that any individual who has the necessary qualification and training, regardless of nationality, race, and color of skin, should be given the opportunity to prove they are capable of teaching the English language.
It turned out I was right. Some universities in South Korea uphold the right of any individual to work and employment without discrimination, a right enshrined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (Articles 2 and 23).
I did not beg to be employed as an ESL teacher. I only wanted a chance to have my credentials evaluated and my capabilities as an English teacher adequately appraised. Thankfully, some universities believe that teaching the English language is not a right exclusive to those citizens from the countries mentioned earlier. They accepted my application, and eventually, I landed a teaching job at one of them. I am now on my way to completing my 11th year here in South Korea.
Most universities in this country (and elsewhere in Asia) are standing firm on their policy to hire only native English speakers to teach the English language. Check advertisements for ESL jobs, and you’ll see how unabashedly these universities would include the note “Only Native English speakers may apply.” The primary reason for this is accent. Native English speakers, of course, have a natural and native-like pronunciation. But let’s not forget that speaking is only one of the four language macro skills. Language learning also involves reading, writing, and listening. An accent is only one of the many components of speaking.
The policy to hire English teachers exclusively from native English-speaking countries has created the impression among Asian students that only teachers from those countries can teach English. So, whenever I entered my ESL classes at the beginning of the semester, some of my students, seeing that I am a short Asian with dark skin and not the tall blond native English speaker they expected their teacher to be, would look surprised. I feel like they wanted to ask me, “Why are you here?” There were times that I cracked this joke, “My name is James Bond (mimicking the way Sean Connery speaks), I am the driver of your ESL teacher. He got injured, so I have to take his place temporarily for the entire semester.” That elicited laughs (from those who understood the joke.)
The policy also made them equate English proficiency to being able to sound like native English speakers. It made them think that the primary goal in English language learning is the acquisition of accents.
In learning any language, including English, the primary goal is not accent acquisition but to become proficient in speaking, listening, reading, and writing in the target language. Accent alone does not indicate proficiency in the language. Language proficiency encompasses various aspects, including vocabulary, grammar, comprehension, fluency, and the ability to effectively communicate ideas.
What I consider an obstacle in language learning is the students’ thinking that its primary goal is accent acquisition. It is a fallacy that I have always tried to rectify in my classes. Acquiring an accent is a desirable learning outcome but is not required for successful language acquisition. As previously mentioned, the primary goal of language acquisition is practical communication and comprehension rather than achieving a native-like accent. I told them that English is spoken with various accents worldwide, and no “correct” accent exists. The clarity in communication matters most – being understood by others and understanding them in return.
My advice to my student is to put accent acquisition last on their list of priorities. They must focus first on general language proficiency rather than developing a specific accent. Focusing on general language proficiency means emphasizing correct grammar, vocabulary, pronunciation (using the International Phonetic Alphabet as a guide), and overall language fluency. I always remind them that general language proficiency covers speaking, writing, listening, and reading.
It is illogical to assume that being a native English speaker automatically makes someone a competent English teacher. Language teaching requires more than native-like pronunciation. It involves overall language proficiency, pedagogical skills, and knowledge of the language taught.
It’s about time that universities eliminate native-speakerism from their system. They must adopt a policy of hiring teachers with strong English language skills, relevant qualifications, and teaching experiences regardless of their nationality. Ironically, the ones practicing native-speakerism are universities in Asia. They don’t believe their fellow Asians are qualified and capable English teachers. It is sad to say that they discriminate against their fellow Asians.
Asian universities must hire English teachers based on non-discriminative standards. They must open their doors to both native and non-native English-speaking teachers. By doing so, they will be promoting diversity, inclusivity, and a more comprehensive approach to language teaching. Hiring teachers from a wide range of cultural and linguistic backgrounds can bring diverse teaching perspectives and experiences into the classroom, resulting in a more enriched learning environment that benefits the students. The policy of not exclusively hiring native English-speaking teachers ensures that all qualified applicants are given equal opportunities. Job descriptions should not be crafted to inadvertently exclude a particular group of people and effectively prevent them from seeking the position.
I was once asked to be one of the judges in a “short film” competition. When the board of judges convened to discuss the results, one member was surprised by my choice of winners. To my chagrin, he asked me this question – “Do you really know what a story is? I was unsure if he was kidding then, especially since his list of winners is completely different from mine.
That question made me reflect. Do I really know what a story is?
Of course, I do.
That surprising comment inspired me to write something about stories and storytelling.
It gave me chills when I got to this part of this article. I imagined Montressor knocking off the neck of a bottle of wine and offering it to Fortunato as they descend to the catacombs of the Montressors with the intention of inebriating the latter so he could consummate a fatal revenge on him because of past insults.
Let me begin by saying that I love stories… like Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Cask of Amontillado,” a part of which I described in the previous paragraph. I am so fascinated by them. Very likely that my having earned the degree Bachelor of Arts in English and my having completed the academic requirements for the degree Master of Arts in English contributed to that. The two main fields of study (major) in both degrees are English language and literature, but more on literature. We studied, among other things, the different forms of literature – prose and poetry, the body of literature of selected countries, literary criticism, philosophy of literature, and creative writing. Just imagine how many stories I had to read when I was enrolled in subjects like Short Stories, Novels, Drama, and Shakespeare. To enhance my understanding of the stories I was reading then, I had to watch their screen adaptation (especially of Shakespeare’s famous plays) if they happened to be available. In short, I became interested in stories, not as a hobby. I studied them. I taught Literature and Literary Criticism when I was teaching in the Philippines. By the way, I also worked so hard to become a writer. I write dramatic monologues, short stories, novels, and plays. Check my website for some of my works – madligaya.com.
I am so fascinated by the art of knitting together the elements of fiction within the frame of a plot – of how to make sure that the most important element of fiction – conflict – is laid down clearly and passes through exposition, complication, crisis (commonly known as climax), falling action, and resolution. Gustav Freitag, a nineteenth-century German critic, laid this down in what came to be known as the Freitag Pyramid. Crisis – or climax – is at the top of the pyramid. The exposition and complication constitute the rising action that ultimately leads to the crisis. Thereafter is the falling action, which leads ultimately to the resolution or the denouement. Some stories (movies) abruptly end when the climax is reached. In cases like this, the crisis implies a resolution. The resolution is left for the readers to deduce.
When a series of events is not laid down in the conflict-crisis-resolution arc, they are but just that – series of events, not a story. Conflict, crisis, and resolution (call them together as a plot) are the necessary features of a story. To be classified as a story, a narrative requires more than setting, character, theme, point-of-view, tone, and style. No matter how short or long a story is, there should be a conflict, conflict that progresses from the time it is revealed (exposition), becomes complicated, reaches a climax (referred to as crisis earlier), slows down to a falling action, and makes a full stop at the juncture called resolution. Am I right? As I articulated earlier, a writer may stop raising the action right after reaching the climax to let readers imagine how it ends or create the kind of ending they desire.
In movies (or films), cliffhanger endings have become so popular. In cliffhangers, it can be argued that the story does not immediately end after the climax but somewhere between the falling action and the resolution. There was no clear resolution. It can be argued also that cliffhanger endings are applicable only in the case of standalone movies, not serialized ones like Star Wars, Avengers, and the like. When for example, Thanos (in Avengers: Infinity War) snapped his fingers, and some of the Avengers were reduced to dust, we were left hanging and wondering why all those heroes we used to see alive and victorious in previous Marvel movies died or disappeared. But it’s not a cliffhanger ending per se because we know that that movie is the 3rd part of the main 4-part Avengers series. We know that the last part of the series is forthcoming. All the Avengers movies and the other standalone Marvel hero movies in previous years are part of one whole story.
You might ask, “Where are the events in Avengers 3 located in the Freitag (plot) Pyramid?” It’s in the complication (or rising action part), far away yet from the climax. Your next question might be – “Which part of Avengers 4 is the climax?” It started when Tony Starks snapped his fingers and said, “I am Iron Man,” culminating at the moment Thanos slowly turned to dust. All the events that followed are parts of a very clear falling action and resolution.
What do you think? Am I right not to consider the endings of serialized stories as cliffhanger endings (because of the imaginary “To be continued”)?
An example of a movie with a climax and a falling action but the resolution was unclear, and the audience needed to decide what to think about it is how the movie “Don’t Breathe” ends. (I hope you have watched that movie, too… and in case you haven’t, I am sorry if this part of my article will now serve as a spoiler. Just skip reading the rest of this paragraph and proceed to the next one, in case you plan to watch the movie.) The climax of that movie came at exactly the 1:20:43 mark. The blind man, after Rocky, hits him repeatedly in the head with a crowbar, falls from the 1st floor of the house to the basement. Part of the falling action shows Rocky coming out of the house alive with the blind man’s money. Later she could be seen with her sister leaving Detroit for California. The movie ends showing that the blind man is alive. He survived. And I was left formulating my own resolution… or is a sequel (or a prequel) being planned?
I used to teach Literature, Creative Writing, and Literary Criticism in the Philippines. One of my students asked this question: Should all stories conflict?
If you were me then, how would you answer?
Can a series of events stitched up together in any form be considered a story without a central conflict?
From Janet Burroway’s “Writing Fiction: A Guide To Narrative Craft”:
“And the story is a form of literature. Like a face, it has necessary features in a necessary harmony… Every face has two eyes, a nose between them, a mouth below; a forehead, two cheeks, two ears, and a jaw. If a face is missing one of these features, you may say, ‘I love this face in spite of its lacking nose,’ but you must acknowledge that in spite. You can’t simply say, ‘This is a wonderful face.’
The same is true of a story. You might say, ‘I love this piece even though there’s no crisis action in it.’ You can’t say, ‘This is a wonderful story.’
Fortunately, the story form’s necessary features are fewer than a face’s. They are conflict, crisis, and resolution.
Conflict is the first encountered and the fundamental element of fiction, necessary because, in literature, only trouble is interesting.”
Let the foregoing paragraphs be my answer to the question, “Should all stories have conflict?”
If a narrative has no conflict, don’t call it a story. Call it a face without any part that should be there – eyes, nose, mouth, cheeks, or forehead.
I sorely miss the best dad in the world. My pop.
My dad was a clever, good-looking Batangueño with great humor. That’s the best way to describe him.
He was a merchant. He would buy different products (clothes, kitchen utensils, blankets, mosquito nets, etc.) from Divisoria and sell them in far-flung barrios (villages) in the provinces of Central and Northern Luzon. He would bring me along occasionally, especially during summertime. His capability to interact with people, make them laugh, and convince them to buy fascinated me. There were times when my father challenged me to initiate and close deals. I tried so hard to copy his excellent business acumen.
Aside from teaching me how to communicate with customers, my dad also impressed upon me when I accompanied him in his business sorties the values of hard work and patience. We sweated, huffed, and puffed as we carried the products he was selling and walked together through muddy rice paddies to reach the homes of potential customers in places that the vehicle he hired could not reach. This was how I realized that whatever we want in life will not be served on a silver platter.
My dad was the reason why I developed a fondness for reading. He was a voracious reader. He would read three newspapers daily – Bulletin Today (now Manila Bulletin), Tempo, and Balita. He did not spend a day in high school but was so good at English. He was my first English teacher.
He was also why I included “teaching overseas” among my career options. In the late 1990s, when I informed my dad that I was about to complete my Master’s, he asked, “How much would your additional degree add to your monthly salary?” I gave him a rough estimate of my monthly pay should I get that graduate degree. He shook his head and told me that my cousins (and the husband of a cousin) who have no Master’s but are working as seamen are receiving salaries three (3) to five (5) times higher than mine.
My dad, due to circumstances beyond his control when he was young, could not get a college diploma. But he valued education. He was the one who pushed (and helped) me to get a college diploma.
He was also why I included “teaching overseas” among my career options. One night in the late 1990s, when my dad visited me in my flat, I informed him that I was about to complete my Master’s; he asked, “How much would your additional degree add to your monthly salary?” I gave him a rough estimate of my monthly pay should I get that graduate degree. He shook his head and told me that my cousins (and the husband of a cousin) who have no Master’s but are working as seamen are receiving salaries three (3) to five (5) times higher than mine.
My dad did not underestimate the degree I was about to earn. He merely challenged me to maximize the returns of whatever degrees I earned. That night, I revisited my career path and included ESL teaching abroad as an option.
My coming here to South Korea to teach was not an overnight decision; it was part of a plan that my dad influenced.
I love you, Dad!
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M.A.D. LIGAYA
M.A.D. L I G A Y A 
